Spring Rains
by Annamia
Summary: Ayla and Jondalar are happily settled among the Zelandoni. But when a series of tragic events bring to light hidden resentment, Ayla must make a decision: does she stay, or does she leave and continue her search for her birth people?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: So technically we promised we wouldn't do this anymore, but we're far enough along in this story that we're pretty sure we can keep ahead of the posting, especially if we stick to our one post a day rule. So we're posting now, and we hope you'll like it!  
Disclaimer: Jean's been doing this for, what, longer than we've been alive? So clearly, we're not her.  
--Caroline

* * *

_Part one: Zelandonii

Jondalar sat in Ayla's dwelling, watching as the daughter of his hearth – _his_ daughter, if Ayla was right – bashed two rocks together. He winced, and reached down to stop her. She looked up at him, a frown on her little face, and he smiled. She looked just like her mother, all blond glory and gentle irresistibility. No man would be able to resist her when she was older, and Jondalar smiled. He did not want the daughter of his hearth to leave, but he was proud of her.

Still, she should know better than to abuse good flint that way.

"Not that way," he said gently.

She frowned again, but stopped bashing so randomly.

"I showed you how to do it right yesterday, remember?" he asked. He would show her again, of course, but he hoped she would remember. He held out hopes of her following him as a flint knapper: her early fixation with stones seemed a good sign.

She screwed her face up in concentration as she tried to think. He said nothing, waiting. Finally, she carefully set the piece of flint down and gripped the smaller rock tightly, angling it down so that it struck the flint sharply at an angle. A piece flew off and landed among the bedding. Jondalar winced and stood, moving over to find it. Finding a sharp piece of flint among the furs was not the best way to begin the evening.

"Like that?" she asked, beaming up at him as she displayed her now ragged piece of flint.

He nodded, pleased. "Exactly like that," he agreed. Her grin widened until it threatened to take over her entire face, and she repeated her earlier action. Once more, the hammerstone hit the flint at a sharp angle, but instead of sheering off a single piece, it exploded the rock, sending shards of it flying everywhere. Jonayla stared in disbelief at the pieces.

"What happened?" she asked, bewildered.

"You hit a seam," Jondalar explained, busily picking up all the shards he could find and wishing Jonayla would allow him to put her shoes on, for all that it was still mid-summer. He didn't like the idea of her walking bare-foot while there might still be stray shards.

"A what?"

"A seam. Even the best flint has seams. They're like cracks that run through the flint. If you're not careful, you can hit it and shatter the entire thing." He smiled ruefully, thinking back on all the blades or tools he had ruined because of that.

"Did I do bad, then?" she asked, lower lip quivering slightly.

Jondalar carefully put all the shards he had collected into a pile by the entrance of the dwelling and swept the little girl up into his arms, swinging her high above the ground before settling her on his shoulders. She shrieked in delight.

"No, you didn't do bad," he assured her. "You did very well. But why don't we take a break from flint knapping and see what Folara is doing."

Jonayla bounced in excitement at this. Folara was her favorite of Jondalar's family, and Jondalar suspected the feeling was returned. Folara loved the daughter of her brother's hearth, and never lost an opportunity to spoil her.

"If you keep bouncing you'll have to get down," he warned as he lifted the hide up to get out of the dwelling. "I'm fragile. You might break me."

Jonayla giggled at the thought of breaking the sturdy man of her hearth, but didn't bounce anymore, just in case.

They crossed the ninth cave until they reached Marthona's dwelling. In front of it, Jondalar reached up and slid Jonayla down from his shoulders. She sighed, but realized that he needed to duck just to get into the dwelling. If she stayed on his shoulders, she would end up hitting her head painfully on the roof of the cave, which would not be fun at all.

Folara sat cross legged on the floor, a loom in front of her. Her hands stilled as Jondalar and Jonayla entered the dwelling, and she smiled. She wisely moved the loom out of the way as Jonayla ran to her, laughing as Folara caught her. They rolled back, Folara having twisted so that they landed in the furs, not the hearth. She knew from experience how painful it was to hit her head on the sharp stones that marked it as Willamar's hearth.

Jondalar laughed. "Jonayla, you'll break Folara too. Let her breathe."

Reluctantly, Jonayla climbed up, then stuck out a hand to pull Folara up too. Smiling, Folara took the hand and stood gracefully. "Did you get tired of watching her on your own?" she asked her brother with a grin.

Jondalar smiled back. "She was making a mess of our dwelling."

"So you brought her here instead?" Folara made a disgusted noise. "Men. Always the same. Why didn't you take her outside, then?"

"Because I wanted to see you!" Jonayla explained, with all the seriousness of a four year old child who knows they make the decisions. "Jondalar was teaching me to knap flint, like he does, and I made it explode, so he said that we should visit you, and I wanted to!"

Folara raised her eyebrows at her brother. "Made it explode?" she repeated. "What did she do to it?"

Jondalar shrugged. "Nothing much. Hit a seam, that's all. But there's flint all over the dwelling, and I'd feel better if she wasn't there, at least until I'm sure it's all cleaned out."

Folara nodded. That, at least, made sense. She looked at Jonayla, who was watching her with wide blue eyes. With a slight sigh – she would get no more weaving done today, that was for certain – she took the girl's hand. "It's beautiful outside," she said. "What do you say we go for a walk and you can tell me more about your exploding flint."

Jonayla's eyes lit up, and she practically towed Folara towards the door of the dwelling. Twisting her neck, Folara managed to catch her brother's eye as she left, and she had to grin at the expression of pure gratitude on his face.

She and the girl left the ninth cave and began to wander down to where the horses were grazing. Gray was old enough to be ridden now, but Jonayla was still small, so Ayla had been doing the primary training. Jonayla could sit on her horse, though, and she had recently learned to lead the mare around in circles. No one in the ninth cave could stop a smile at the sight of the tiny girl atop the much larger horse, walking round in circles as though it were the most impressive feat ever accomplished. And, for many observers, it was. Despite her constant litany, Ayla had never quite managed to convince people that her control of the animals was nothing more than hard work and dedication. Watching Jonayla, who was clearly flesh and blood, tame the horse had brought animal training down to another level, one that the people of the ninth cave could relate to far more easily.

Jonayla chattered eagerly as the two walked, recounting her adventures of the morning and explaining about seams at great length. Folara, who had grown up with Jondalar and thus knew far more than she wanted to about seams and faults and everything else having to do with flint, listened with half an ear, privately thinking that the little girl looked to be taking after Jondalar in more than just eye color.

Suddenly, Jonayla stopped short. Folara, wrapped up in her musings, almost didn't notice until a tug on her arm let her know that her charge had stopped moving. She blinked, refocusing on the present. Then, her eyes widened. Two strangers stood on the path, looking at the two Zelandonii with wide eyes.

Folara was the first to recover. She smiled at the two and said, "Greetings. I am Folara of the Zelandonii."

They did not answer, and she could see the confusion in their eyes. She studied them more closely, wondering where they came from. They did not understand Zelandoni, that was certain. And they did not look quite like the people she was used to, either. They must have come from far, far away, she thought, trying to remember if she knew any words in the languages Ayla had tried to teach her.

Groping in the back of her memory, she tried Mamutoi. "Greetings. I Folara of Zelandonii."

The confusion in their eyes did not alleviate, and Folara sighed. She did not know any other languages at all. She would have to do it the hard way. She touched herself on the chest, smiling again. "Folara."

The man still seemed confused, but the woman seemed to understand. She touched the man's shoulder, and he glanced at her. They did not speak, but clearly she communicated something to him, because, when he turned back towards Folara, his eyes had lost the blank incomprehension of moments later.

He tapped himself on the chest, copying her gesture. "Ord."

Folara frowned. "Orrrd?" she tried, doing her best to roll the 'r' sound as he did.

He nodded. "Fo-la-ra?" he answered. She noticed that he spoke each syllable separately, as though they were all their own word. She nodded back. He gestured at the woman. "Elda."

Folara repeated the word, then introduced Jonayla. He had more trouble with that one, but finally managed to get it approximately right. Almost without thinking, Folara glanced down at the girl, just to make sure that it was acceptable. She did not want Jonayla throwing a tantrum just because she thought the stranger was making fun of her. Thankfully, Jonayla seemed fascinated by the strangers, not insulted at all.

Folara looked at the two strangers, biting her lip. She wanted them to come with her to the ninth cave, but she did not know how to communicate that to them. She was spared the need by Jonayla, who suddenly bounded forward and grabbed the man's hand. The look of shock on his face was priceless, but the girl did not even notice. She began to pull him towards the cave, much as she had pulled Folara out of it. Folara and Elda had no choice but to follow.

Jonayla led them straight to Marthona's dwelling. Once they had arrived, she disentangled herself from Ord and grinned, clearly inordinately proud of herself. Folara debated whether or not to scold her for rudeness, and then decided to let her get away with it. She had solved Folara's problem, after all.

Instead, she asked, "Will you find your mother and Jondalar? They know more languages than I do."

Jonayla nodded and grinned one last time at the strangers. Then, she turned and sped off, head held high and chest puffed out at the importance of her task. Folara chuckled, watching her go, then turned to the two visitors. She wondered what to say to them. She wanted to offer them some tea, wanted to ask them to sit down and make themselves comfortable, but she did not know the words to do so. Instead, she made do with gestures, pointing at the cushions and sitting down herself. Moments later, Elda followed her example, but Ord stayed standing. Folara expected Elda to explain her meaning to him as she had before, but the foreign woman did not. The silence grew between them all until it became almost overbearing. Just when she was about to start chattering inanely to fill the silence, the hide that formed the door to Marthona's dwelling lifted. All three people turned to look, Folara hoping that it was Ayla. She was good with strangers; Folara was not.

It was not Ayla, but it was almost as good. Folara grinned in delight as Zelandoni stepped into the dwelling.

"Jonayla told me that you had visitors," the woman explained as Folara rose and rapidly cleared off the clutter on Zelandoni's seat. "I thought I would stop by and meet them." She sat, examining the strangers with frank curiosity.

Folara sighed. "I can't speak with them," she confided. "They don't know either Zelandoni or Mamutoi, and I don't know any other languages."

"I didn't know you knew Mamutoi."

"I don't. I know how to greet someone, but that's all. It doesn't matter, though, since they don't understand even that."

Zelandoni examined them more closely, perhaps trying to guess where they were from from their features. Finally, she shook her head. "I don't know. Hopefully Ayla or Jondalar will be able to find a language they recognize."

Folara nodded. "I sent Jonayla to find them," she told the donier. "I thought you were them."

Zelandoni laughed. "I see." She glanced back at the couple, who had not said a word, then sighed. "I hope she finds them soon."

"So do I," Folara agreed. "I want to offer them tea, to make them feel like I'm welcoming them, but I don't know how to ask."

"You could make some and then offer it," Zelandoni suggested. "I know I, for one, would like some."

Folara jumped up, delighted to be useful. She moved towards the hearth and picked up her fire-making kit. Quickly, she made a small pile of tinder, then picked up the flint and her firestone. Quickly, she struck them together and the spark flew into the tinder, lighting in immediately. She could sense the strangers' eyes on her, and she could imagine their astonished faces. That meant that they probably weren't from any of the Peoples Ayla and Jondalar had met; despite the number of years that had passed, things like firestones were rarely forgotten.

Folara started heating water. It was almost boiling when the hide lifted again. She turned to see Jonayla, proudly towing Ayla and Jondalar behind her. Folara sagged in relief. Her brother and his mate would be able to figure out where the strangers were from!

She sat on her heels as she watched the four people examine each other. Ayla's reaction especially intrigued her. The woman seemed unwilling to look the strangers in the eye, choosing instead to glance up through her lashes at the strangers. Why was she acting like that? Folara knew quite well that Ayla was not shy, so what was wrong?

Suddenly, to everyone's shock, Ayla slid down to the ground and sat cross-legged, head bowed, and hands in her lap.


	2. Chapter 2

Ord looked at the blond woman sitting before him, wondering if he was misreading everything. He had expected many things when he finally found the Others, things that he had found, such as rudeness and women who did not know their place, but the last thing he had expected was another woman of the Others who knew how to behave properly. Almost unwilling to believe that this really was what he thought it was, he reached out and tapped the woman on the shoulder. Sure enough, she looked up, though she still did not meet his eyes. That was good. Women should not look directly at men.

"Who are you, woman of the Others who knows Clan customs?" he asked, using the formal sign language. If she truly had been raised by a Clan, she would know it and be able to respond in kind. If not, well, she would not understand, and he would know of his mistake.

He need not have worried: she was already signing back, the sheer fluidity of her signs proof that she too had been raised by the Clan. "I am Ayla. I was adopted by a clan after the death of my real family."

He could sense Elda's growing excitement as she saw what the woman had said. Even her accent was right! Gracefully, Elda slid into the same subservient position, and Ord tapped her to acknowledge her right to speak. Out of courtesy to Ayla, she used the formal sign language as she asked, "May this woman speak with the woman of the Others?"

Ord nodded his permission and both women rose gracefully, with the ease of long practice. They faced each other, their eyes alight.

"I am called Elda," Elda said. "This man is called Ord. He is my sibling, and was Mog-ur of our clan."

Ayla's eyes widened, and she looked at Ord with renewed respect. He liked that. She knew the respect his status was due. "My mother's sibling was Mog-ur," she told Elda. "He raised me."

Ord frowned, wondering where her clan was from. He did not know of any Mog-urs who had raised a woman of the Others. She sensed his confusion, and added, "My clan is far to the north, over a year's travel away."

Ord nodded shortly, to show that he had seen, then went back to watching. He knew most men of the Clan would not permit their women to speak freely before them, but he had always been indulgent of Elda, and Ayla was only answering Elda's questions.

"Why did you leave you clan?" Elda asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Ord frowned, and she looked down. "I am sorry. That was rude of me."

Ayla shook her head, smiling slightly. Ord noticed that she did not bare her teeth as the Others did, but stretched her lips while keeping them closed. "I don't mind. I was cursed with death many years ago."

Elda's eyes widened, and she glanced at Ord. In the everyday language of their clan, she asked, "She is a spirit?"

Ord shook his head. "No. She is still alive. She has returned from the Spirit World."

Elda nodded, relieved. She turned back to Ayla, who had been watching their exchange with interest. "I am glad you are not a spirit," she said frankly. "I have missed speaking to another woman." She glanced at Ord, who was pretending to ignore them. "My sibling is of higher status, of course, and I obey him, but it is nice to talk, sometimes."

Ayla laughed. "I know how that feels," she assured Elda. "I felt the same way sometimes, but I did not know any other women with whom I could speak."

Suddenly, one of the men of the Others spoke a word, and Ayla turned. Ord, watching the two of them, suspected that they were mates. They both seemed hyper-aware of each other, and each of them unconsciously moved a fraction closer to each other as they spoke. Elda noticed it too, and she hid a smile.

The man of the Others, Ayla's mate, was speaking rapidly, in the same language the dark-haired woman who had met them first had used. Ord could not understand a word of it, but obviously Ayla did. She seemed slightly embarrassed, and turned back towards Ord. She glanced at the man, who took a deep breath. Slowly and clumsily, he signed, "I am Jondalar."

Ord frowned. The man could speak, yes, but his signs were little more than baby-talk. Clearly _he_ had not been raised by a clan. So how could he speak at all? Ayla knew his words, so he did not need to learn them to be with her. It was a mystery.

Ayla spoke something to her companions, signing the translation as she did so. "This is Ord and Elda. They were raised by a clan, just like I was. Ord was their Mog-ur, and Elda is his sibling."

The enormous woman seated to the left spoke, and Ayla nodded. She turned back to Ord and Elda, sinking down to a cross-legged position once more. Almost impatiently, Ord tapped her shoulder.

"This woman would like to translate between her people and the people of the Clan," she signed. "Would the Mog-ur permit this?"

Ord nodded, and she stood once again. "The woman would like to know where your clan lives," she translated, then added, "the woman is the Mog-ur of her people."

Elda's eyes widened. "They allow women Mog-urs?" she burst out, before suddenly remembering that she was in mixed company. Ord glared at her, and she subsided, sinking to her knees behind him to show that she would no longer interrupt them.

"Our clan is several moons journey towards the sun," Ord said. "We left at the beginning of the summer, and have been traveling since."

Ayla translated his words, and the woman Mog-ur asked something else. Ord was beginning to pick up which of her phrases were questions and which were not, but he did not know what her words meant.

"The woman would like to know why you left your clan," Ayla translated.

"My acolyte was ready," Ord said simply. "And our new leader did not like Elda. I took her with me and went on a journey."

Ayla nodded, though Ord could see that something in his response had sparked a response from her. She did not mention it, however, and neither did he, in keeping with the customs of the Clan.

The blond man asked a question then, though he did not try to sign it. Ord was grateful: for all that it was nice to know that a man of the Others knew how to speak properly, watching his clumsy signs was almost painful. Ayla was much easier to deal with, for all that she was a woman.

"My mate asks how you and your sibling came to be raised by the Clan," Ayla translated.

Ord sighed. He had known that they would have to tell this story eventually, but he was not looking forward to it. Ayla noticed, of course, but she said nothing, and, when she began to translate his tale, she did not seem to let any emotion color her voice.

"Elda and I are the same age," Ord began. "Our mother says that she found us lying out when we were only days old. She thinks that our birth people did not like twins, but she never saw them, so she could not know. She took us in and raised us. I became acolyte to the Mog-ur, and Elda was mated to the leader. We lived with them until Elda's mate died in a hunting accident and I made my acolyte into Mog-ur after me. Then we left the clan to find our people."

He had no way of knowing whether her translation was accurate or not, but the reaction of the Others was clear: they were shocked, and the brown-haired woman was almost in tears.

"They are saying that your birth people were wrong to abandon you," Ayla translated quickly. "They wish they knew who they were so that they could ask their reasons."

Ord shook his head. "Tell them not to. The Clan are our people, even though we no longer live with them."

Ayla spoke something, then put a hand on her mate's shoulder when her words did not seem to comfort him.

Suddenly, the little blond girl who had brought him here pushed forward and sat sloppily down cross-legged. She fidgeted as she waited for Ord to tap her shoulder. Ord could see Ayla's mate frown and move to stop the girl, but Ayla shook her head. She spoke something, signing as she did so, "No Jondalar. Leave her."

The man subsided reluctantly. Ord wondered if it had been his totem which had overcome Ayla's to have the child, then reached out and tapped her shoulder.

Her head came up instantly, and she began to make signs. They were far better than the man's, though it was clear that she too had not been born to the language.

"I am Jonayla! I greet you, Ord and Elda of the Clan."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ord could see Elda hide a smile. He too contained his mirth as he answered, "Greetings, Jonayla." The word came reluctantly off his tongue, but she accepted it.

"Jonayla is my daughter," Ayla explained. To Jonayla, she added, "Why don't you go find Marthona? We are in her dwelling, after all."

Jonayla jumped up and sped out of the shelter, calling out loudly. Ord frowned at Ayla. "You should teach your child better manners," he said severely. "She should not make so much noise."

Ayla looked pained. "Jonayla is a child of the Others," she said defensively. "It is their custom to allow their children to speak. They do not speak as we are doing, after all, and their children must practice just as those of the Clan must."

She was right, but Ord did not say so. He would never compromise his own status by admitting that a woman was right and he was not. Instead, he repeated Elda's question from several moments ago. "Do the Others allow all women to be Mog-urs?"

"The position can be held by either a woman or a man," Ayla told him. "As can the position of leader. Additionally, their Medicine Women and their Mog-urs are often the same person."

Ord had to admit that this was more convenient than having both a Mog-ur and a Medicine Woman, but he could not see how women were strong enough to be allowed into the Spirit World. When he said as much to Ayla, she could not repress a slight smile. "Women of the Others do everything men do, including hunt," she told Ord. "They would be very offended if you told them they were not strong enough to go into the Spirit World." She looked down.

Ord did not press her, turning instead to Elda. "Do you have anything to ask Ayla?" he asked, staying in the formal language for the sake of politeness.

Elda's eyes brightened, and she focused all her attention on Ayla. "How did you learn to speak as they do?" she asked.

Ayla smiled and turned towards her mate. "Jondalar taught me," she explained. "He found me after I had been cursed. We lived together for almost a year, and he taught me to speak."

Elda nodded. "Could he teach me, too?" she asked eagerly.

Ord frowned at her, but she did not notice, so intent was she on not missing Ayla's answer. "I am sure he would not mind," she said. "And I will help translate things." She looked at Ord. "Would you like to learn as well?"

Ord hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Yes, it would be useful to know their language if he had to live with them. "I will learn," he said. Then, looking straight at Elda, he added, "But we cannot stay long. We must return to our journey."

Elda nodded, "Yes," she agreed.

Ayla bowed her head. "I understand," she told them, but Ord could see that the idea distressed her. He put it out of his mind. She was a woman, and what distressed her was of little importance in the grand scheme of things.


	3. Chapter 3

A peal of laughter rang out through the dwelling as Jondalar finished recounting, for the thousandth time at least, the story of his half sturgeon. Ayla had heard the story before, of course, but Elda had not, and both women were laughing. Jondalar sighed. "I teach you to speak, and you laugh at me!" he grumbled, scowling at Elda. "Some reward _that_ is."

Elda sobered immediately and shifted from her seat on her knees into the traditional cross-legged position, bowing her head. Ayla could see Jondalar's confusion as he reached out and tapped the woman's shoulder: Elda had been living with them for over two months now, and it had been weeks since she had done that.

"I am sorry I offend," she said carefully, her accent more pronounced than usual. "I not mean to."

Jondalar frowned more as he tried to figure out what she meant, and Elda bowed her head again. Ayla's heart went out to her friend – she certainly knew how painful cultural misunderstandings could be! – and murmured to Jondalar, "tap her shoulder again."

Jondalar did so, and Ayla caught Elda's eye. Rapidly, using Clan sign language so that she could be sure that Elda understood, she explained that Jondalar was not angry with her, he was only pretending. Elda did not understand, as Ayla had known she would not, but she rose anyway, seeming to accept that there were things about the Others that she would never understand. Ayla smiled, watching her. She felt like that too, and she had been among the Others far longer than Elda.

"Do you know where Ord is?" Elda asked Ayla, using Clan signs for convenience.

Ayla rolled her eyes. While the woman had wanted very badly to learn to speak at the beginning, she was lagging now, saying that she knew enough to get by, and that she did not need to know more. Ayla suspected that having two people with whom to speak in signs, one of whom who could translate back and forth, had slowed Elda's progress. Ayla knew that she herself would never have been content with that minimalist grasp of speech, but, then she had already learned that she and Elda were very different. "I don't know," she replied, deliberately speaking Zelandoni. Elda sighed, guessing what Ayla was doing.

"I saw him with Joharran last," Jondalar volunteered. He spoke a great deal more Clan than he had when Elda and Ord first came, so much so that Ord now preferred speaking to Jondalar rather than Ayla. Ayla understood and took no offence, though many of her fellow Zelandoni women thought she should. Of course, many of her fellow Zelandoni women thought that she shouldn't even be associating with Ord and Elda in the first place.

"I go find him," Elda told them. Her tone was defiant, but Ayla only grinned, knowing that it was just because Elda wanted to prove that she _could_ speak when she wanted to. She rose and ducked out of the dwelling, leaving Jondalar and Ayla alone.

Ayla looked at her mate, suddenly realizing that this was the first time in a while that they had been alone together in several weeks. Jondalar seemed to be thinking the same, because he was watching her carefully, as though shy.

Ayla sighed. "I've missed you," she admitted, coming closer to him. "I feel like we haven't had any time at all since Ord and Elda came."

Jondalar nodded, a little wryly. "Especially since Elda's sleeping here," he said.

"I thought she would be more comfortable with me," Ayla said defensively. "Ord is fine with Joharran and Proleva, but Elda isn't used to the Others. It's easier when there aren't as many men."

"I know, I know," Jondalar assured her. "And I'm not complaining… much. I just miss you."

"I do too," Ayla answered. Her smile took on a different tone as she added, "but there isn't anyone here now…"

"I like the way you think, woman," Jondalar agreed. He reached for her, and was about to slip her tunic off her shoulders when the door opened, revealing Jonayla and Wolf.

Ayla and Jondalar glanced at each other, then simultaneously burst out laughing. Jonayla looked from one to the other, then propped her hands on her hips, waiting for her mother and her mother's mate to stop. When they finally regained control of themselves, she said reproachfully, "Zelandoni wants you, mother. She says you're late."

Ayla's eyes widened and she rose hurriedly. "I forgot," she admitted.

Jondalar frowned. "Are you all right?" he asked. "That's not like you."

Ayla grinned. "I was distracted," she informed him.

He snorted. "So you're going to blame it on me, are you?" he asked as she made sure her clothes were all properly settled once more.

"Of course," she answered.

"Whatever was I thinking, mating you?" Jondalar asked. "I'm starting to think I would have been better off never mating at all."

Ayla laughed. "Keep telling yourself that," she told him. "I'll be back soon."

She stopped to pet Wolf, who rubbed against her leg happily. Making a decision, she made the gesture that told him to come and headed towards Zelandoni's. She hadn't been spending enough time with Wolf either, and she was feeling just as guilty about it.

Zelandoni looked up as Ayla entered her dwelling. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "Is everything all right?"

Ayla nodded. "Yes." She blushed slightly as she added, "I am sorry I am late."

Zelandoni, guessing the reason for Ayla's discomfort, smiled. "Don't worry. But sit. We have a lot to do if we want to be ready for the Mother Festival. It's in two days, if you remember."

Ayla smiled wryly. "I did not forget _that_, at least," she assured her mentor. She sent Wolf to lie quietly in a corner and sank down to her knees. "What would you like me to do?"

Zelandoni handed her a bowl full of herbs. "Crush these, please," she said.

Ayla looked at the herbs curiously. "What do you need so much crushed thyme for?" she asked. "I don't think it has any medicinal properties, does it?"

Zelandoni grinned. "No," she admitted. "But I have a fondness for it on my food, and I've learned that I have to grind it myself if I want to have it."

"Yet you are making me do it," Ayla commented, picking up the pestle.

"What do you think acolytes are _for_?" Zelandoni asked dryly. This made them both laugh, and Ayla got to work.

As she worked, Zelandoni asked, "How are your Clan friends doing?"

Ayla grinned. "Very well," she said. "Ord is gaining respect among the men for his strength, and Elda is making friends with the women." She did not add that it was only a minority of people who would even look at the Clan-raised people. Zelandoni surely knew that already.

"I saw an interesting thing yesterday," Zelandoni commented as she began to sort through bundles of dried plants. "Three children, not even close friends of yours, talking to each other with Clan signs."

Ayla's eyes widened. "Really?" she asked. "That's wonderful! Maybe the Zelandoni are finally realizing that the Clan are not animals."

"We can hope so," Zelandoni agreed. They worked in silence for a while, before she suddenly asked, "Ayla, I don't think I've ever quite understood. What does it mean to be 'cursed with death.'"

Ayla winced, wishing the woman had thought of another way to bring it up. That was far more direct a question than she was used to from the large woman. Indeed, it seemed to be more the type of thing she would expect from her Mamutoi family.

She sighed. "To be cursed with death… it is a little bit like being banished, only worse. When you are banished, you are in disgrace, but you can say good-bye to your friends and your family before you go. When you are cursed, they don't see you anymore."

"You mean they ignore you?"

Ayla shook her head. "No. They don't see you at all. If you try to talk to them, they think it's your spirit, and they're scared." She shivered. "It's terrible." Then, frowning, she added, "Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering why Ord and Elda did not seem to treat you the way your clan did," Zelandoni explained. "And, if you say that you are dead to the Clan, why will they accept to talk to you?"

Ayla shrugged. "I think it might be because they were born to the Others. They have a more open mind. And they are not of my clan, so they were not there when Goov preformed the ceremony." She shivered again, remembering that terrible day so long ago.

Zelandoni nodded slowly. "I see," she said, and lapsed back into silence. Ayla did not press her farther. She knew the older woman well enough to know that she would say nothing more, no matter how much she was pressed, and, quite honestly, Ayla did not want to think about the curse anymore. She turned her attention back to the thyme plants, and, eventually, Zelandoni turned their attention towards working out the final details for the Mother Ceremony in two days. The death curse was forgotten… Ayla hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

Elda looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do. She wished Ayla were with her, but the other woman had said she needed to be with Zelandoni, and Elda had not been able to stop her. Ord too was gone, off with the men. She bit her lip and looked down, wishing she didn't have to be here. She didn't even know what was going to happen, only that Ayla had lent her some clothes and told her to be excited.

"Hi Elda!"

She turned to see Folara slip in next to her. Elda smiled. "Hello Folara."

"Are you excited? I bet it's your first Mother Festival, isn't it?"

Elda frowned. "Not sure what mean, 'Mother Festival,'" she admitted.

Folara's eyes widened in shock. "You don't know what the Mother Festival is?" she repeated. "Didn't Ayla tell you?"

Elda shook her head. "Only say fun. Not tell me what expect."

"Well, it's starting now, so I can't explain it, but you'll see." Folara squeezed Elda's hand. "Don't worry. You'll like it."

Elda did not answer, but she did not let go of Folara's hand either.

Suddenly, her attention was drawn towards Ayla and Zelandoni. They stood at the very front of the cave, both dressed in ceremonial outfits. Elda had never seen anything like them before. Ayla wore tight-fitting pants made of soft bison leather, died a deep, earthy red. A fringe ran down each side, and Elda saw that most of the men of the cave seemed fixated on that fringe. Ayla also wore a bright red top, which was cut low so that it displayed only the most tantalizing of hints of her breasts. She wore her Clan amulet, of course, and her long blond hair hung loose around her. Elda could see how she would be considered absolutely irresistible.

Next to her, Zelandoni wore a long skirt, died the same deep red. Her skirt was devoid of fringe, but it was heavily decorated with painted symbols and animals. Above that, she wore a shirt similar to Ayla's, though not as low cut. Her long gray hair had been carefully arranged on top of her head. Both women wore strange designs on their faces, and Zelandoni sported a number of small bones and shells stuck through her face. Ayla had no piercing, but she did not need any. She was captivating enough without them.

Zelandoni's voice was powerful as she cried out, "We give thanks to Doni for another harvest. We thank Her for bringing our hunters home and keeping them safe. We thank Her for Her bounty and Her generosity in sharing the creatures She created with us."

"We thank Her," the multitude of Zelandoni chanted, eyes fixed on their donier and her acolyte.

Ayla took up the prayer. "We thank Doni for giving us many children this season, and we thank Her for the children which will be born during the winter. We thank Her for bringing our mothers and our men home, and for helping us keep the peace with our neighbors."

"We thank Her," the Zelandoni repeated, and, this time, Elda joined in.

"We thank Doni for giving us Her blessing," both women cried out together. "And we pray that She will continue to bless us."

"We thank Her!" the Zelandoni and Elda cried. "We thank Her!"

"We ask that Doni keep watch over us and protect us," Zelandoni continued.

"We ask that Doni save our children from death and our women from the pain of it," Ayla added.

"We ask that Doni continue to show us Her favor," both women insisted.

"We thank Her," the Zelandoni echoed.

"We promise to honor Doni tonight and all nights," Zelandoni swore, her powerful voice growing even richer as she spoke.

"We promise to respect Her creatures and take only what we need," Ayla continued. Her voice too had swelled, until she seemed to be shouting as loudly as she could, yet Elda could see that she was not straining at all.

"We promise never to forget that we owe all our luck and our wealth to Her," both women chorused.

"We thank Her," the Zelandoni repeated, and they continued to repeat it, over and over and over again. "We thank Her. We thank Her. We thank Her." Elda felt herself being carried away with them, and she cried out with the rest of them, feeling that she really did believe that Doni would hear them. Still, just to make sure, she added in a silent thank to Ursus for smiling on Ord and her and leading them to people who could help them.

Suddenly, Zelandoni raised an enormous mammoth bone high above her head and brought it crashing down on the ground. The sound of it echoed and swelled until it was all Elda could hear. The chanting stopped, and the only sound was the ringing of the mammoth bone. Slowly, even that faded away, and the only sound was the slight chirping of the last crickets.

The sun had gone down almost all the way, and Ayla and Zelandoni stood in the last pools of the sunset, the crimson and gold rays pooling around them, making it seem as though they stood behind a huge fire.

"Doni has accepted our thanks," Zelandoni said at last, breaking the stillness. "She will bless us for another year."

Elda felt as though everyone around her let out their collective breath in a sigh of relief. She felt herself doing the same, though she had not remembered holding her breath.

And then, it was over, and everything returned to normal. Ayla lit fires with her firestones and Proleva and the other women moved over to the feast table. The people began to chatter as they milled around the table.

Folara grinned at Elda. "That's only the beginning," she assured the Clan woman. "The rest is even better."

"What happened?" Elda asked. "Seemed like get bigger, but not move." That was not quite what she meant, but she did not know how to express herself properly in Zelandoni. She wished Ayla were here to translate. Then, with a slightly rueful smile, she realized that Ayla would probably let her fend for herself. The blond woman had been trying to convince Elda to become completely fluent, after all.

Thankfully, Folara seemed to understand anyway, and she nodded. "I know," she said. "I don't know how they do it. But you're right, they do seem to get bigger. It happens every time."

Elda followed Folara over to the food table, and was delighted to see that Ayla was already there. Even better, she wasn't talking to anyone.

"That was beautiful," Elda signed excitedly. "How did you do it?"

Ayla grinned. "A Mog-ur never tells her secrets," she informed Elda with signs. Aloud, she said the same thing, though she substituted 'Zelandoni' for 'Mog-ur.' A few people around them chuckled.

Ayla, Folara, and Elda quickly got their food and moved to find a place to eat. They were quickly joined by Jondalar, though not Ord, and a young man Elda did not know. Folara grinned in delight as she saw him, though, and set her food down to kiss him. Elda shook her head. She could never get used to such public displays of affection.

"Elda, this is Dorelam, of the nineteenth cave of the Zelandonii, son of Martela, former leader of the nineteenth cave of the Zelandonii, brother to Malora, acolyte to Zelandoni of the nineteenth cave of the Zelandoni," Folara said. "Dorelam, this is Elda, of the Clan of the Cave Bear."

Dorelam held out both hands. Elda put her food down and took them, blushing slightly. She was still not used to touching men so openly, and she kept expecting one of them to cuff her for being presumptuous and improper. But he didn't. Instead, he smiled. "In the name of Doni, I greet you, Elda of the Clan of the Cave Bear."

She nodded. "In name of Ursus, I greet Dorelam of Zelandoni nineteenth cave."

He seemed surprised at her accent, but he kept smiling anyway as she dropped his hands and picked her food up again. Ayla winked at Folara, then rose. "I'm going to go find Lanoga," she told the brown-haired woman. "Jondalar, Elda, would you like to come?"

Jondalar started to protest, but Ayla silenced him with a look. Elda smiled as she followed her friend. She knew that Ayla wanted to give Folara and Dorelam some time alone together.

"Who is Lanoga?" Elda asked as they walked back into the crowd.

"Lanoga is a young woman who lives in the ninth cave," Ayla answered. "She and Lanidar will be mated this summer, along with Folara and Dorelam."

Elda frowned. "All four mate?" she asked.

Ayla nodded. "Yes. At the first matrimonial. Then, Lanoga and Lanidar will go back to the fifth cave, where he lives, and Folara and Dorelam will stay here."

"Not mate together, then?" Elda asked, thoroughly confused.

Ayla frowned, then realized what Elda meant and shook her head. "No. Among the Zelandoni, all couples are mated at the same time. They are not all mated to each other, though."

Elda nodded to show that she understood. They continued to walk until Ayla's face brightened. "Lanoga!" she called.

A small young woman turned to look. She too smiled, and Elda could see that she practically worshiped Ayla. She came over to the three adults, trailed by a smaller girl that Ayla introduced as Lorala, Lanoga's sister. Lorala looked up at Ayla, then all around, as though looking for something. Finally, she demanded, "Where is Jonayla?"

Ayla laughed. "Jonayla is with Marthona and Willamar. I think they're over there." She gestured back the way they had come.

Lorala looked up at her sister. "Can I go find her?" she begged.

Lanoga nodded. "Be careful," she warned. Lorala rolled her eyes, then sped off into the crowd.

Lanoga smiled, watching the young girl maneuver easily between much taller people. Then, she turned back to Ayla. "You were amazing," she said earnestly. "Better than Zelandoni, even!"

Ayla reddened slightly. "Don't say that," she told Lanoga. "I have many years to train before I am a better Zelandoni than the One Who Is First."

Suddenly, a drum started pounding. Elda started, then relaxed as she realized that it was nothing like the Clan rhythms she had learned as a girl. Lanoga's eyes brightened. "It's time!" she exclaimed. "Come on!" She too darted off into the crowd. Elda looked at Ayla and Jondalar.

"What happening?" she asked.

"The dancing is going to start," Ayla told her. "Come, I'll teach you the steps." They followed Lanoga. When they arrived at the center of the cave, Elda saw people already dancing, men and women together. She shrank back.

"What's wrong?" Jondalar asked, concerned.

"Not want dance with men," Elda admitted. "Not proper."

Ayla smiled. "Don't worry," she said. "You don't have to dance with men if you don't have to." She reached out and took a cup of tea for herself and one for Elda from the table that contained the remnant of the feast. "Drink this. It will make you feel more relaxed."

Elda sipped, and discovered that it was in fact quite good tea. She finished it quickly, then set it down, looking at Ayla. "What do now?"

"Come with me," Ayla said. "I'll help you." She glanced at Jondalar. "If I come back to find you dancing with either Marona or Folara I will be very upset, do you understand?" she asked severely.

Jondalar ducked his head meekly. "I understand," he agreed. Then he made a face. "Though why you think I would dance with Marona, I don't know."

"Just making sure," Ayla said simply. "Come on Elda." Ayla drew her into the center of the ring. People made way for them, and Elda saw most of the men looking at them with lust in their eyes. She frowned, wondering if Ayla noticed. Ayla's slight sigh told her that she had, but she said nothing about it. Instead, Ayla concentrated on showing Elda the steps to the dance. They were not hard, Elda discovered, far easier than the steps to the women's ceremony she had learned as a girl.

Eventually, Ayla left, grinning as she did so. Then, she did a very odd thing. She leaned across the distance between them and said urgently, "Just remember two things Elda. One, they don't know the Signal, and two, you have the right to refuse. Do you understand?"

Elda nodded, confused. Ayla grinned, then turned and vanished into the crowd, leaving Elda on her own. Elda continued to dance by herself, concentrating on the steps. She did not know how long she danced – time seemed to blur into itself until a minute could have been an hour or a day.

Eventually, she noticed that fewer people were dancing. She remembered what she knew about Doni, and realized what they must be doing. She wondered if she should look for a partner, but her Clan instincts would not let her. They screamed at her to wait until a man chose _her_, not the other way around. So she danced, and wondered if anyone would choose her.

She should not have worried. Moments later, a brown haired man she vaguely remembered as being named Charezal tapped her on the shoulder. Obligingly, she followed him into a corner, and they did not leave that corner for quite some time.


End file.
